Loyal Servants
by Marvelgeek42
Summary: Believe it or not, Death Eaters have lives too. Though admittedly, they do think about the Dark Lord quite a lot. [Series of one shots that may or may not be related; also a couple of non-DE ones that feel like they fit in here.]
1. How would he prove it?

**I am the Seeker for Puddlemere United in Season Four of The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition and this is my entry for Round 1.**

 **Prompt:** **Write about your chosen Death Eater (Bartemius Crouch Jr) visiting or being visited by someone.**

 **Word count without A/N: 983**

* * *

Bartemius Crouch Junior was reading - studying might be a better wording - in his room. He barely did anything else ever since his mother - his foolish mother - had switched places with him to get him out of Azkaban.

Even now, thirteen years later, a part of him still resented her for it.

He had not felt sorry for torturing those blood traitors.

He had proved his loyalty to the Dark Lord in the most effective way possible, and she had dragged him out of it.

How was he to plan for the return of their Lord with the others?

How would the Dark Lord know he wasn't a coward like Karkaroff and Snape and Malfoy when he returned?

How would he, imperiused as he was, join the Dark Lord again?

And wasn't it ironic that his father - his father, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at that time and in the run to be the next Minister of Magic - helped with his unwilling escape and now frequently used one of the three so-called Unforgivables to keep him from using his freedom to look for his Master?

During the Quidditch World Cup he _finally_ managed to break free and used a wand he stole - and, bless Morgana, it was the Potter boy's wand - to conjure his sign, the Dark Mark, so that it would be like the old times. The members of their noble cause, united under _his_ sign.

Unfortunately, it did not work as he hoped. The others had fled at the sight of the sign of their Master, bunch of disloyal fools they were, and he had been caught, thanks to that stupid elf, his father, the Potter boy and his friends. Caught before he could flee, to find the Dark Lord, to help the other loyal Death Eaters escape so they could look for him together; all thanks to blood traitors, a mudblood, and their slave.

It was truly pathetic.

Bartemius sat up when he heard someone entering forcefully. A minute later his father screamed in pain (and oh! How he loved the sound of these screams).

Could it be that someone finally found him? That there was another member of their noble cause downstairs, intent on freeing him?

Oh! How he wanted to look, but the curse kept him upstairs.

Bartemius fought as hard as he possibly could and he won. It took some time though, so when he was finally able to go downstairs he was greeted by Peter Pettigrew, who held a bundle that spoke with a raspy voice.

"It seems dear Bertha Jonkins was right. You are indeed alive and free. That only leaves the question of your loyalty."

Was that...? Impossible.

"My Lord? Is that you?"

"Indeed."

Bartemius fell on his knees, next to his stunned father, and started to ramble about his joy that the Dark Lord found him; about his loyalty; about his disgust at those who lied to stay free; and about his plans and how his fool of a father stopped him.

Eventually, his Master held up his hand.

"Rise," he ordered.

Naturally, Bartemius obeyed.

"I am pleased to find that not all of my loyal followers are in Azkaban and that I do not have to rely on Wormtail alone."

"Milord? I'm afraid I do not understand," Bartemius asked for clarification, unfamiliar with the name.

"A name given to Peter here by his former friends. I believe it fits him quite well, better than Peter even. Don't you think so?"

Bartemius looked at the shivering man: lacking a finger as well as proper hygiene, and having unkempt hair and long, dirty fingernails. Neither name displayed strength or power, and the man quite obviously possessed neither. The lack of the latter showed his submissive nature, in Bartemius' opinion at the very least, and it seemed like his Lord agreed with him.

"You are right of course, my Lord."

"Indeed. As you can see, I am reduced to merely a fraction of myself. Consequently, our next goal will be for me to return to a body worthy of my inhabitance. I am not sure quite how yet, as I refuse to possess anyone below my standards again."

Even though Bartemius was confused by the statement, he did not question it. One should never question the Dark Lord; he would give them all the pertinent information.

Bartemius had always been exceptional at potions, even though both Severus and that mudblood Evans surpassed him by far, so it was no surprise that he remembered the one potion that would be useful.

"My Lord, may I propose something?"

Bartemius noticed the horror in his father's eyes. Had the man never guessed his status? Never wondered _why_ he went with the Lestranges? They would not simply take anyone with them; they needed someone who proved their loyalty, who they knew would not mess up or back out, preferably someone from the Inner Cycle. And they had found that someone in Bartemius.

"You may."

"There is a potion, the Regeneration potion I believe, that would provide the needed services."

Bartemius quickly got the book he needed - he had to be sure he was not giving false information to his Master after all - and described the procedure and the ingredients, careful to mention every detail.

"You have done well, Bartemius," his Lord complimented when he was finished. "I already know how we will use that to our advantage. You heard that the Triwizard Tournament will take place at Hogwarts this year? I am sure we can get Potter's blood that way. If we do it right, we might even be able to replace him."

* * *

One month of careful planning later, Bartemius and Wormtail captured Moody and Bartemius took some Polyjuice with the man's hair in it.

His father was imperiused and worked in his office, as if everything were normal - as if Bartemius had never been visited.


	2. Why should she?

**Written for the _Scavenger Hunt_ in _The Golden Snitch_ (prompt: Death Eater wedding).**

 **Word Count: 502**

* * *

 _ **Why should she?**_

* * *

Bellatrix Black had never particularly cared for her fiance. She doubted that would change when he was her husband. And why in noble name of Salazar Slytherin should she?

They had many things to do. Much more important things to do. They had to bring forth the Dark Lord's name and his important agenda forward.

There was no time for such silly things like dating the man she would marry anyways—it was a marriage contract after all—and both of them knew it.

Her husband-to-be was none other than Rodolphus Lestrange, first born son of Robertus Lestrange—one of the Dark Lord's oldest and most loyal followers—and heir of the Most Noble House of Lestrange. Oddly enough, no one knew who his mother had been. It did not matter. Robertus would not have chosen anyone below his worth; it had to be a pureblood.

Sometimes, she was almost glad that Andromeda had ran away with that mudblood, because otherwise she would have been stuck with Lucius. Rodolphus was way more agreeable; her parents had made a great deal with him. Lucius could be Narcissa's problem instead, she was a better fit for him either way. If nothing else, both had perfected the same expression of constant boredom.

She needed to be wed so that they could help in producing the next generation of purebloods to continue their society just the way it was. You did not need to fix something that was not broken, no matter what fools like Dumbledore said.

Except without those pesky mudbloods. Wouldn't that be a delight, for her children to live in a world without mudbloods, blood traitors, squibs, and muggles?

A dream, an utopia, that would be.

And for that to happen, she needed to work with the Dark Lord.

And have the children in question of course. Which brought her thoughts back to the present

To her wedding. Which was happening right now.

Hooray.

Bellatrix Black—Lestrange in the matter of minutes—did not particularly care for it. And why should she?

She was no hopeless romantic like she sisters. She was attracted by power and power only. Anything and everything else did not matter.

Rodolphus was powerful enough to suit her tastes—both in a magical and in a political sense—but that did not mean he has to make a fool out herself by behaving like a Weasley or something.

For some odd reason, everyone else seemed to disagree with her, but Bellatrix did not care for the opinion of everyone else—at least not in this case. Why should she?

It was her wedding after all. She had no reason to let anyone else's opinion bother her. She held her head high as she walked through the aisle and listened patiently when it was required of her. She obediently said her vows. She let Rodolphus kiss her when the priest told them to.

Bellatrix Lestrange smiled and did everything that was expected of her, but she never bothered to care for it. It was pointless—completely and utterly pointless—after all.

* * *

 **Please tell me what you think!**

 **~Marvelgeek42**


	3. Small Talk

**Written for the _Scavenger Hunt_ in _The Golden Snitch_ (prompt: Narcissa/Lucius).**

 **Word Count: 505**

* * *

 _ **Small Talk**_

* * *

Walburga Black had always been Narcissa Malfoy nee Black's favorite relative—other than her sisters and, perhaps, her cousin Regulus—so of course that was where she went to get advice after her mother had passed away.

It wasn't like she could speak to Andromeda and Bellatrix was ridiculously unhelpful at times.

Narcissa always liked to sit down and talk with her Aunt and she was almost certain that Walburga felt the same.

After they sat down in the drawing room of the ancestral Black home and Kreacher had brought them some tea, the two of them began to talk.

"Lucius brought me this delightful necklace from Venice last week." Narcissa showed it to her aunt. It was a simple black band with a ruby in the middle. "He saw it and thought of me."

"Because ruby's your favourite gemstone or because of the simple yet elegant look?"

Narcissa smiled—not a smirk, it was an actual smile, something reserved for Walburga and Lucius only. And her child, once he—or she—had been born, of course. "A combination of both, according to Lucius himself."

"It really is a beautiful thing. Kind of remembers me of the amulet my dear Orion found me in Egypt once."

"The golden one with the emerald linings?" Narcissa questioned, taking a sip from her cup. If she was right then this was her aunt's favorite piece.

Walburga nodded. "Yes, that's the one. Tell me, how is the little one coming along?"

"The Healers say that the baby is progressing exactly how it should be. We can find out the sex during the next appointment, should we want to. Lucius is against it, but I do not think I can resist my curiosity."

"Understandable," her aunt agreed. "It was about the same with Orion and I. He wanted to entertain his hopes for daughter, I think. It would have been better if Sirius had been one, but I will not have a third child."

"Lucius has told everyone that he will only accept a son, but I know him. He would love to have a daughter to spoil, he just needs to preserve his image. And of course it is important to have a heir."

"Indeed it is," Walburga replied, drinking the rest of her tea. "Shall I call Kreacher for a refill?"

"That will not be necessary. I have to return to my husband. I only left because he wanted to prepare a surprise." The surprise would most likely be a romantic dinner with all of her favorites, because that was about the only thing that would require her to leave the house for a while, as Lucius' favourite charms for a romantic atmosphere were quite loud.

"Then it would be best not to let him wait," Walburga agreed, standing up.

The two of them moved towards the Floo.

"I am sure that you will like his surprise."

"Oh, I am quite certain I will," Narcissa smirked. "Lucius always has the best surprises and I doubt that this is going to change anytime soon."

* * *

 **Please tell me what you think!**

 **~Marvelgeek42**


	4. finally

**Written for the Charms Assignment #1 of Term 6 at _Hogwarts._ The prompt was "Write about someone who feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted off their shoulders".**

 **Word Count: 450**

* * *

When Jennifer Brown first heard the news, she did not believe it. The message was simply too good to be true.

You-Know-Who, defeated?

She had prayed for that during the last eleven years; for good reasons, too.

For one thing, Jennifer was a muggleborn. That was not exactly something anyone could want to be in the last decade.

Then there was her beloved daughter, Su Li. The name came from her father's side of the family. Marrying Hu Li—or rather Li Hu, because that was the way he had grown up with—had involved a lot of confusing paperwork, but she would not trade it for anything in the world. He was a wonderful father and husband and he was more than worth the time and effort they had put into their marriage.

Finally there was the fact that she was a healer at St. Mungo's. Well, technically speaking a healer apprentice, but that didn't really matter in this case. That status difference only made you a tad more overworked, if anything. Because you were helping out several healers at once, often working on up to twelve percent at the same time.

If there was anything that You-Know-Who could be trusted with then it was creating—emotionally and physically—injured people.

And corpses, of course. You-Know-Who was quite good when it came to corpses, which was obviously a very bad thing. Despicable and horrible.

When she heard the news, Jennifer was incredibly relieved and delighted.

She wouldn't need to worry about the lives of her family anymore.

She was free of the constant worry hanging over her head.

Her workload would finally reduce—or at least stop increasing—and she would be able to spend more time with her family once again. In the past months—ever since she had started her job—there had been no time for this, but she had needed to do everything she could to help.

How could she stand by and do nothing—essentially pretending that the war was not happening in the first place—when everyone else she knew was trying their best to stop the man? Her best friend, Emmeline Vance, and even Hu were risking their lives as Auror?

This—You-Know-Who dying—was better than she could have dreamed to hope for. Jennifer could have danced and sung, only barely managing to hold herself back in front to the patients.

That changed when she got home. Jennifer fell into her husband's arms and cried tears of happiness until their daughter woke up a couple of minutes later.

She spent the rest of the day playing with and entertaining Su.

It was the best day she had had in a while.

* * *

 **Please tell me what you think!**

 **~Marvelgeek42**


	5. Oh Captain, My Captain

**I have no idea what this is.**

 **This is written for Round 5 of the** ** _Grand Battle_** **at** ** _Diagon Alley II_** **.**

 **Word Count: 1,049**

* * *

 _ **Oh Captain, My Captain**_

* * *

When Snape and the Carrows took over Hogwarts in during his seventh year, Anthony Goldstein was very tempted to do nothing and fade into the shadows.

Tempting as it might be, it was not a real, valid option. It went against his sense of morales, against the way he was raised.

You see, Anthony's mother was a Muggleborn. She had received a letter that cited her in front of the Muggleborn Registration Commission, but she had burned it.

"My mother has lived through the Holocaust. She was in Auschwitz. I am not letting these ignorant fools do something as horrible as that to this country as well. The world has already seen more than enough horrors. Not with me."

This wasn't the first time Anthony had heard the story, but it was by far the most horrifying. Before, it had always been something distant, almost abstract. Now, however, it was very real.

It would be easier to hide and hope that his father's side of the family would be enough to let him survive.

The fact that it was the easy choice, however, did not mean it was the right one as well. Far from it, actually.

Why should he be able to survive while others like his mother or his sister - who was a squib - suffered?

He couldn't let that happen. He had to do something against this, no matter how small.

And so Anthony decided that he would return to Hogwarts, but that he would assemble an opposition.

He wasn't convincing enough to do something as amazing as Sir Nicholas Winton and he didn't have the resources to pull of something like Oskar Schindler.

But that was alright. Their legends were being told, were being turned into gold, basically. Anthony could help in his own way.

As long as he was a part of the solution and not the problem, he would be strong in his own way. In a sense, Anthony had the responsibility to ensure the safety of the students in Hogwarts. He was a Prefect after all. He couldn't let them hanging.

And thus, Anthony returned to Hogwarts on September first. The atmosphere on the train was notably different. Everything was a lot more grim than what he was used to. The train was quieter and empty than he could ever recall it being. As much as he had longed for silence to read his book or ponder something or other in peace over the years, this was not at all what he had wanted.

But he didn't show any signs of the fact that it fazed him. He shrugged and gave a false smile whenever he was asked where his mother had went to—she had gone back to her parents, no one would actually look for her there—and say that he was hoping that maybe his father could find someone better now.

It was a lie in every single sense, they believed him nevertheless.

Once they were at Hogwarts, however, things changed. He started carefully observing people one by one and—once he was sure of their intentions—invited them along to a 'meeting' in an unused classroom.

It wasn't the safest place, but it wasn't the most dangerous either. Plus, he wasn't completely convinced that something like a safe place currently existed within the walls of Hogwarts.

Slowly but surely the group grew. Rose Zeller, Natalie McDonald, and Luca Caruso were just some of those he picked up.

Anthony chose the younger kids, because his intention wasn't fighting. It was to keep as many people as possible as safe and unharmed as possible.

This was also the reason why they were in the corridors today. The Carrows had issued more detentions the day before and it was pretty much up to Anthony and the others to pick them up and care for their psychological well being. The Professors—other than Snape or Carrows—were doing their best and they managed to get almost all students to Madam Pomfrey discreetly, but it was simply impossible for them to actually show that they cared.

This night it was Nigel Wolpert that they had to care for.

Amara Catterfield was the only one with Anthony this time, as this was one of the more dangerous days to be out and about.

The Carrows were some of the teachers patrolling.

The two of them—Anthony and Amara that is—had almost made it to Gryffindor, when Amara 'accidentally' destroyed a painting of some eighteenth century wizard who had loudly proclaimed to everyone in the area that the Carrows were doing the right thing.

And by destroyed, Anthony ment that she had somehow managed to completely obliterate the frame before the wizard had the time to flee.

"What's next, genius?" Anthony asked once he had processes what happened. "Do we ask the teachers to close their eyes and block their ears until we can find a new portrait of dude and it's over?"

Amara thought about that for a second. "... Do you think they would if we asked nicely?"

"Maybe a few of them would," he replied. "But the other portraits certainly won't. At least not all of them," he added at the offended looks he was receiving from selected portraits. "You destroyed school property in a place that is frequently visit."

"What do you propose we do then, oh captain, my captain," she asked raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "I have literally no idea. Just continue ahead for now."

And so the two of them more or less pretended that the interruption had not happened at all.

Until Anthony almost literally ran into the female Carrow that is.

Amara was able to pull him back in the literal last second and Carrow's back was turned to them, so thankfully she didn't notice.

And somehow, neither did Anthony.

When Amara dragged him into a convenient secret passage, he started ranting about the fact that he was the leader of this and that she couldn't just do what she wanted the entire time.

"Leader? Leader? You almost lead us to our death!"

He blinked once, twice, and then a third, final, time. "What are you talking about?"

As she explained what she had just prevented, Anthony grew progressively paler.

"Okay, yes. You did the right thing. Let's leave before this becomes a total fiasco."

* * *

 **Please tell me what you think!**

 **~Marvelgeek42**


	6. Patience

**For the** ** _Sir Nicolas' 525th Death Day_** **event at** ** _The Golden Snitch_** **(Koldovstoretz, Vladimiranova). The prompt being** ** _Death: Write from the perspective of the character 'Death.'_**

 **Word Count: 507**

* * *

 _ **Patience**_

* * *

It is true, Death is a patient Being.

However, this is not by nature, but simply because it is hard not to be after existing since the very dawn of time. It is a learned ability, since the lack of such would result in near unbearable amounts of frustration.

That does not mean that there is no impatience left in them, oh no. There are a number of souls that Death can hardly wait to consume, namely the ones of those that give them so much more work.  
Collecting each and every soul of any human being that dies is hard enough by itself, they don't need additional challenges by overambitious leaders who somehow believe to be doing the right thing. During World War Two, for example, Death had been so overworked that their only comfort had been that at least they had not also been responsible for the animals as well. That would have been frankly impossible to deal with.

Humans alone could only be dealt with because Death was removed from the laws of space and time, but they could not simply pick up soul after soul. It's not an easy concept to translate into any mortal language, believe them. There is no one who can explain their situation better than them, after all.

That is not the point they initially wanted to make. Their plan had been to talk about people whose souls are not as easy to get.

Namely, people who try and reach for immortality.

There are people who do it in acceptable ways, like Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. They—whether with or without their knowledge—have entered a contract with Death. The humans in question have worked for their prolonged life and have to continue working for it to go on. Should they stop working, their lives will be terminated and they are well aware of it. These people know that, eventually, they, too will be collected by Death and that it is just a matter of time until then.

Then, there are people that drink unicorn blood. They give up any chance of an enjoyable life after death among many more things for their temporary escape, so that is also something that Death can deal with.  
The people that dare to create a horcrux, to _split their souls_ , however, is more than disgusting. Why oh why would anyone think a few more years on earth are worth an eternity in limbo? Death cannot comprehend this. Destroying their soul, their sense of self, their morals, their ability to feel empathy and so much more is the worst idea anyone could ever have!

Alright, there is one thing that is worse than that: creating multiple of those disgusting things. The mere suggestion of someone doing something like this makes their non-existent skin itch and burn and Death hates that more than anything else they have ever experienced in their long, long life.

In conclusion: Tom Riddle foolishly thought that splitting up his soul would mean escaping them.

But Death is patient.  
They can wait.


End file.
